


please, and thank you

by Anonymous



Series: high speed railed [1]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pete is turned on by good logistics, Praise Kink, Spanking, Strong D/s, a ridiculous amount of foreplay, adventures in kink with pete and chasten, blindfold, mild asphyxiation, oh and also ass-eating, otp: wait that's my word, seriously this is filthy, sorry for breaking pete, super mild poetry kink, there's fluff at the end, there's not really daddy kink it's just something i pulled from another work for one sentence, two hot nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “He wanted to grab Pete's hips and pull him close and growl,Hey, little boy, is your daddy home?in his ear and feel him melt.”— waltwhitmans, Nov. 2019
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Series: high speed railed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170407
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30
Collections: Anonymous





	please, and thank you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [waltwhitmans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltwhitmans/pseuds/waltwhitmans). Log in to view. 



He’s running a towel in his hair when a pair of hands settles on top of his, warm against the cool of his freshly-showered skin. He grins and opens his eyes, settles them on the radiant smile of his husband’s reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t turn around, choosing instead to finish drying his hair, amused by the way their hands move together as one. It’s always been the little things like this that mean the most to him, the small gestures of domestic affection where silence and touch say more than words can.

As he hangs the towel back up on the bar, the hands drag languidly down his shoulders, his back, and slow to a stop on his hips, just below the edge of the towel around his waist. Just low enough to cross into not-quite-innocent territory. He’s about to cheekily ask what’s happening, but his eyes catch his husband’s expression again. A smirk has replaced the smile. They lock gazes and he sees steel.

He feels fingertips pressing into his hips, pulling him back, pulling him close. “Hey, little boy,” his husband growls in his ear, sending shivers down his spine, “is your daddy home?” He’s embarrassed at how easily he melts, knees buckling slightly, head falling backwards, a quiet moan escaping his lips. If those hands were grabbing him any firmer, he might have let himself collapse entirely.

“God, that is so wrong,” he whispers, and Chasten only laughs, a low rumble in his chest that Pete can feel against his back. Pete turns his head, places a gentle kiss on his husband’s jawline, and mock frowns. “We can do this, but you’re terrible for getting me dirty again when I just took a shower.”

Chasten tilts Pete’s face up with a finger at his chin, closing the gap and murmuring against his lips, “Just dirty? Don’t you prefer absolutely filthy?” and swallows his helpless whimper with a kiss. Normally, Pete pretends to wrestle for control, but he falls swiftly into submission this evening, readily opening his mouth for Chasten’s tongue to lick in roughly, possessively, tasting of mint.

The angle Pete is craning at quickly becomes uncomfortable, not helped in the least as he twists needily to press harder against his husband’s lips. Chasten relents, pushing Pete’s hips around until they’re facing each other and capturing his lips again without missing a beat. His hands settle on Pete’s ass and nonchalantly knead at the firm muscle through the towel. Pete’s soft whines jump in pitch at the sudden pressure. His hands, clutching at Chasten’s arms, drop to fidget at the cloth, impatient to feel skin on skin. It comes loose with little resistance when Chasten pulls, and he tosses it onto the counter behind Pete. Chasten’s fingers wander past the small of Pete’s back and his full cheeks, cupping the round curve underneath. Pete hums, content at the soft touch on his sensitive skin, and deepens the kiss, opening his mouth wider.

Too soon, Chasten breaks away, leaving one last lick on Pete’s bottom lip. Pete shakily inhales and, through the mild haze forming, hears Chasten contemplate, “Maybe I should teach you how to ask tonight. Would you like that, Peter?” It takes a moment for the key phrase to register, but as soon as it locks into place, he nods, a quick, desperate nod full of want and anticipation. Chasten smiles smugly at that, and Pete almost feels embarrassed at how he gives in so easily. He forgets the feeling as Chasten places an affectionate kiss on his nose — a reward, for being so willing. “Come now,” Chasten says, hauling Pete forward by the curve of his butt as he backs into their bedroom.

“But that would end the fun so soon,” Pete protests, and Chasten playfully slaps his ass, shaking his head in laughter.

“Insufferable.”

Maneuvering Pete until his calves brush against the mattress, Chasten lets go and steps back, looking his husband up and down. Pete blushes under the unabashed attention, looking away, his cock already half-hard with arousal. “You’re beautiful,” he hears, and his throat tightens, barely containing a gasp of pleasure from the praise.

“Sit here, close your eyes, and be a good boy for me.” Pete does as told, listening as Chasten moves across the room and into their closet, rummaging through their collection of toys. He smiles at the mental image, knowing that the concept of toys would have been beyond his grasp just a few years ago. It never ceases to amaze him the way they fit so perfectly together, the way Chasten taught him how to explore and embrace his sexuality, the way his insatiable hunger is readily met by Chasten’s. 

The muffled sound of footsteps gets closer, and Pete expects to have something pressed into his hands, or to be told to do something; his schedule might dictate their lives, but it’s usually Chasten giving the commands in their bedroom. Instead, he feels fabric pressing against his eyelids, stretching across his temples and tightening. He has a feeling that, even if he were to sneak a peek, he wouldn’t be able to see much. Besides, he has no intention of risking a punishment for misbehaving — at least, not this early in the night.

“I was thinking of trying something new tonight. What do you think of that, Peter?”

Chasten isn’t _really_ asking him, but he doesn’t need to. One of Pete’s favorite things about his husband is that he always has the logistics down, especially when it comes to sex. Pete often gets lost when he’s in a headspace of giving Chasten the reins, making consent dubious at best. Clearing up what they plan to do beforehand with a simple key phrase usually works out well for both of them, and Pete is ever-grateful for his husband’s knack for it.

And the anticipation makes him ridiculously horny.

“Yes, sir,” he breathes, hands fidgeting with the comforter. “I would like that, sir.” Chasten hums in acknowledgement, sounding pleased with the dynamic Pete is setting, and quickly ties the blindfold.

“Lay down on your back. Arms up.” Excitement shoots up Pete’s spine as he shifts to cross his wrists together above his head. The rope lightly snakes around, weaving between his hands, tightening firmly until it’s just short of taut between him and their bed frame. He rolls his shoulders once forwards, once backwards, and nods in approval.

“Good.” Chasten’s voice takes on a commanding hardness. “I will tell you how loud you’re allowed to be. We can start with whimpering, if you must.” Pete shudders, but stays silent. He grips the rope loosely with his fingers. Chasten smooths out his tone, and it feels like molten chocolate pouring onto Pete’s naked body. “Such a pretty sight, like this. All spread out for me. Just for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Only for you, sir,” he hurriedly agrees, biting his lip to cut off a moan. The image of Chasten staring at Pete like a masterpiece, of himself laid out bare and bound and vulnerable, is turning him on. 

“All for me. So well-behaved, too. You’re a very good listener. You’re also so very loud. Who would have guessed that quiet, bookish Peter screams his husband’s name at night?” His stomach flutters in response to Chasten’s low chuckle. Heat rises to his face. “I'm glad we don't have neighbors close by anymore. You were so loud two nights ago, I thought they’d hear you from a mile away.

“I’m sure you remember as vividly as I do, don’t you?” He does. Memories of intimacy with his husband always replay in crystal clear definition for him. ”When I bent you forward over the kitchen counter and ate your ass out right there? When you fucked yourself on my hand until you came? When I made you stand there, on shaky legs, so I could watch the come drip off of you? When I flipped you onto your back and fucked you until you howled?” Suppressing a growl, Pete’s hips twitch upwards into nothing, heat pooling low in his belly. _Patience._

“Always so hungry for more. Hungry for my tongue and fingers at your hole with a fist on your dick.” Pete whimpers softly, and Chasten clicks his tongue. “Greedy, greedy. But, to your credit, you give, too. You love kneeling for me. Love being under me. Love stretching your lips around my cock. Love having your face fucked until you can hardly breathe.”

He can’t help but moan at that, trying and failing to keep it from escaping. A hard slap lands on his inner thigh immediately, the sting sending shock waves to his erection. He gasps and jerks up before another slap meets his hip, reminding him to keep still. 

“Whimpers only, Peter,” Chasten snarls, and Pete gasps again. “Do you know what a whimper is? Show me.” A pause. Pete licks his lips, lets out a small and painstakingly controlled whine. He wants more, needs more, but he knows Chasten won’t give in yet. He has to behave first. “Good boy. Be still and keep it down.

“You know, you talk an awful lot for an introvert. Sometimes, when you’re wearing those blue ties, I want to reach out and choke you with it, make you stop talking for a minute.” Pete’s breath catches in his throat and his arms reflexively strain against the bondage. He can hear the delight in Chasten’s voice: “You like that, don’t you? Tell me you like that.”

Pete swallows, his mouth dry. “I like it.”

“Pardon? What do you like?”

He decides to go for extra points. “I do like it, sir. When you choke me with my own ties, sir. When you don’t let me breathe. Sir.”

“Maybe next time we’ll try that,” Chasten ponders; he sounds just slightly out of breath, and something warm settles in Pete’s chest. ”You really are greedy, even when you’re giving. So insatiable. I could look at you and you’d drop down for me, beg for me. You’d let me take you by the mouth and use your hair as a handhold, right there, anywhere. And you shut up so nicely with my cock down your throat. Almost choking on it. Swallowing it so deep your ears ring with pleasure. Taking it as far as you can into your sweet, wet, beautiful mouth. Working so hard your pink lips swell from being so used. And you _love_ it.”

Pete whimpers in between heavy breaths, a hot flush blooming over his chest. His jaw aches, remembering the hundreds of times he blew Chasten until his eyes watered, wanting and ready to do it again a hundred more. With the blindfold on, all of his attention is directed at sound and touch. He’s already a sweaty mess from Chasten’s verbal foreplay, and the cold bedroom air nips at his heated, sensitive skin. Precome leaks from his hardened cock, warm and slick against his stomach. It’s nearly overwhelming and he’s practically untouched. His husband really is too good at this.

A sharp pressure suddenly drags upwards along the left side of his ribcage. Pete flinches, both from the unexpected touch and from the chafing of the rope he inadvertently pulls on. He chokes on a groan.

“You’ve been a good boy. I’ll let you be as loud as you want for now. Make the most out of it; I want to hear you, Peter.”

Pete moans out his husband’s name, and grins when he briefly feels Chasten’s fingernail stutter off course in response. It moves over the edge of his chest, crosses his collarbone, and skims lightly up his exposed throat before settling to brush back and forth across his jaw.

“I don’t think I tell you enough how beautiful you look when you’re panting, Peter,” Chasten croons, and Pete hisses out a breath. “I like seeing your mouth open and gasping for air. I like seeing you shake when you’re desperate. Pretty boy.” Slightly leaning into the infuriatingly mild touch, Pete whines at the attention. Chasten slowly draws loops around one side of his face, unhurried and driving Pete wild. 

“More. Faster. I want more,” he grinds out. “Want your hands on me. Can’t do this so slow.” Pete twists to press against Chasten’s finger, but it quickly pulls back, out of reach.

“Oh, but I can.” The smirk is audible in his voice. “If you’re going to beg, be polite. I don’t take orders from you, _Peter Paul_.” The way Chasten spits out his name makes him quiver.

A full ten seconds pass before he feels Chasten’s fingernail on his temple again, scraping along the curve of his ear and circling behind it before dragging back down his neck. Pete hums in gratitude and pushes his chest upwards when the touch lingers there. “Please, Chasten,” he begs, wantonly, “please. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” 

Chasten’s finger disappears, and Pete is about to whine in frustration when wetness meets his skin. Involuntary shudders run through him as Chasten’s tongue flicks across his nipple, lightly swirling around and playing with the hair on his chest before sucking the hardened nub into his mouth. Pete’s head sinks slowly into the pillow, relaxing under his husband’s delicate work, and quickly shoots back up with a gasp as the rough edge of teeth grazes his chest. “Holy _shit_. Right there, sir, yes, sir—“ His words melt into a heady moan.

The nibbles slowly migrate lower, peppering a line down the side of Pete’s body. Relentless love bites scatter across his hip and he thrusts forward, only for Chasten to immediately pull back. Tone laced with warning, he says, “Stay still, or I stop.” A heavy silence follows. Chasten’s voice lowers, dripping with condescension. “You know the biggest dildo you have is never the same as me. You know you can’t get off on your own as well as I can make you.” He punctuates each word with an unexpected hit to Pete’s thigh: “You.” _Smack_. “Need.” _Smack_. “Me.” _Smack_. The pain only makes Pete harder; a strangled cry falls from his lips, followed by more as Chasten digs a nail into Pete’s reddened skin and continues a trail down his leg.

Pete feels a single kiss — gentle, forgiving — on his ankle, before his husband’s touch disappears. The mattress shifts and Chasten’s weight moves to the opposite side of the bed. He hears first a click, then a quiet whirring noise, and moans as he recognizes the sound. “Please,” he breathes, and mercifully feels buzzing plastic make contact with his calf. He can barely keep from jerking his hips up in response to the radiating vibrations. Lines slowly zigzag over his leg, and when Chasten suddenly lifts it to touch the massager to the sensitive spot behind his knee, Pete sobs with shocked pleasure. The massager trails up the underside of his thigh, pausing at the base of his ass, just shy of where Pete needs it. 

Instead, it suddenly jumps up to his chest, forcing a gasp out of him when Chasten roughly tweaks his nipple with the head of the massager. “God, Chasten,” he grunts, arching his back. “This is — _ah!_ — torture.” As vibrations keep moving in a lazy path across his midriff, Pete feels soft lips brush the edge of his chin. He whimpers at the doubled sensations and turns to the side so that Chasten can have more access. Feather-light kisses rain down on him, from where his jaw meets his ear down to the hollow of his throat. He almost slips, and bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. Chasten knows, he reminds himself. _Later_.

The vibrator clicks off at the same moment Chasten moves to focus on worrying at Pete’s neck, just under his ear, and he sighs into the gentle nibbles. His husband is so good to him. He feels spoiled laying here and being on the receiving end of all of Chasten’s attention. The fond moments between the excitement, the little acts of care amidst the dirtiness. If there’s one thing Pete loves, it’s being taken care of.

A sharp nip pulls him from the drifting lull of Chasten’s lips. He hums quietly in expectancy as Chasten’s warmth retreats. “Flip over.” Pete likes where this is going. “Don’t break a shoulder doing it.” He chuckles and does as he’s told. Chasten helps him onto his belly, and he hisses at the friction against his cock. Pete settles into a comfortable position, rests his head between his tied arms, and opens his legs. He feels Chasten move between them and palm his ass. Sloppy kisses cover his cheeks, and Chasten plays dirty, letting his tongue tease at the sensitive skin down the middle without touching Pete’s hole. Pete’s restless, trying not to shift around and failing.

“You know, Peter,” Chasten says, moving lower to tongue at Pete’s balls. “I won’t be happy if you keep moving like that. You’re getting off against the bed.” Pete blushes, embarrassed at being reprimanded, and does his best to still his hips. It’s not helping that Chasten’s tongue keeps flicking across his perineum, lips barely ghosting over his hole. “Only I’m allowed to give it to you.”

“Then give it to me.” He swallows. “Please.”

“Cheeky.” Pete lets out a quiet laugh, and chokes on it when Chasten spanks him. Another spank, and another. It’s just the way Pete likes it — hard and fast and sudden, forcing groans out of him. He would rather die before admitting it to anyone else but Pete loves being spanked, even more than he knows Chasten loves spanking him. “And so naughty.” Chasten leaves one last spank right across the apex of the curve of his ass before going back down.

Chasten’s tongue starts on the underside of Pete’s balls and slowly drags upwards over his hole. It barely dips inside before circling around his rim, unrushed. Pete’s still a little loose from being finger fucked that morning, so it’s not really to get him ready so much as it’s to rile him up, and it very much is. Chasten has to pin Pete’s thighs down with his forearms to stop him from bucking up. Pete starts whining, frustrated, and Chasten takes pity on him, finally slipping the tip of his tongue into Pete’s ass.

He’d been rimmed before but no one ever did it like Chasten does. No one ever took their time and dragged it out to make him beg; no one ever fucked their tongue in, in that way that makes his whole body seize up; no one ever paused for a few seconds to plant little wet kisses all over. Chasten does all of that and more to make him fall apart every single time. He doesn’t shy away from being vocal about that, either, moaning his gratitude.

Pete’s just about to beg for a moment to catch his breath when Chasten pulls out, leaves a few last strokes across his hole, and sits back up. “Hands and knees, Peter.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” It’s more difficult getting into a position like that with his wrists bound, but Pete manages, hauling himself forward until he can get his legs under himself.

A beat passes, and Pete smiles when he hears Chasten’s sharp intake of breath, preening under his husband’s appreciative gaze. He feels Chasten’s hands push apart his thighs, letting his dripping cock hang down under his spread cheeks. Pete lets his back drop to make sure his husband gets a good view of it all. Chasten firmly kneads the muscle of his ass for an all-too-brief moment, and Pete whines in arousal when he hears Chasten start to work at his own dick. Breathily, Chasten muses, “Your ass would look so pretty covered in my come, wouldn’t it?”

It’s a new idea, but that doesn’t make Pete feel any less turned on from the thought of it. “Paint me with it,” he gasps, “paint my ass with your come, sir.” He pushes his hips backwards for emphasis. “Mark it as yours.”

Chasten hisses, and Pete can hear him getting closer; he relishes that he’s gotten Chasten to the edge without laying a finger on him. Pete yelps when one of Chasten’s hands spanks him and leaves behind a hot buzz on his skin. The pace of Chasten’s strokes picks up along with his breathing, becoming more and more irregular. “Come on, baby,” Pete whimpers. “Come on me. I want it all over my ass, please.” Chasten grunts, giving in, and comes. Warm ribbons land on Pete’s still-stinging skin, and slowly drip down the back of his thighs as Chasten regains his breath. He’s so hard that it’s physically starting to hurt.

“Sir,” he starts carefully. “Sir, thank you for taking care of me so well. But sir …” Pete trails off, waiting for approval.

A moment passes. “Is there something wrong, Peter?”

“No, sir,” he hurriedly responds, flushing at the hint of danger that he hears. “It’s just that … I want you, sir. Please. You’re so good to me, I’m so thankful, and I want … more, please.” He hopes the earnest gratitude works.

Chasten laughs teasingly. “I was right when I said you’re greedy. Just like you to get a taste, and dare to ask for even more.” He hums, mulling over his words. “You’re always in such haste — my insatiable little whore. I suppose I made you this needy.” A little _oh!_ of surprise punctuates Pete’s gasp; there is little the wordsmith loves more than filthy language mixed with poetry, elegant rhyme steeped in lust. “Let’s open you up with the vibrator first. Make sure you’re ready for me.”

Still off, the massager leisurely makes its way up Pete’s thigh, skating across his burning skin. Two familiar clicks, seconds apart; the bottle opening and closing. One hand parts his pink, come-stained cheeks wider, making room for the head to sit right on his hole, still slick with saliva and loose. At least, just loose enough for Chasten to carefully work the thick head of the massager in.

Pete lets out a sigh at the delicious stretch, letting his body relax to take it in. His weight shifts forward and he lowers his chest to the bed. Chasten only pauses for a beat before pushing in deeper and Pete sucks in a breath when it teases just shy of his prostate. Chasten eases it back and forth, gently fucking Pete until he adjusts to the size. Soft moans, muted and reverent, fall from Pete’s lips. He moves in turn, trying to set a faster pace because he’s ready and he wants to be fucked _now_. The massager pulls back, almost leaving his body completely, his rim taut around the very end of it. Chasten makes him wait for it with bated breath.

He hears himself scream before he registers the click.

Grinding his face into the pillow, Pete cries out as the vibrator assaults him with jolts of pleasure. It almost slips out when his asshole clenches in response, but Chasten decisively forces it back inside, all the way until it presses up against that spot and Pete all but blacks out. His knees feel like giving out but he can’t bring himself to fall away from the pleasure, pleasure like waves crashing into him and surrounding him and drowning him and he would gladly drown in this feeling if he could. On a subconscious level, he notices he’s lost control of his hips. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to stop them from desperately thrusting over and over. Words no longer exist when he’s overstimulated like this. It’s all moans and sobs and incoherent begging and choking gulps of air because _it’s so much and he can’t think, he can’t help it he’s going to come—_

Chasten harshly pinches the head of Pete’s cock and the roar in his ears falters, hesitates, recedes. “Too much?” he says, mockingly, but Pete barely hears the sarcasm because he’s so close that Chasten’s fingers around the tip of his dick are the only thing keeping him from barrelling through an orgasm. The pillow is soaked with tears. He’s stopped crying but he can’t stop mewling, pathetically, because Chasten hasn’t turned the vibrator off and it’s still insistently buzzing against his prostate. He wants to — _needs_ to — come so badly, all over Chasten’s firm hand. An eternity passes with the two of them at an impasse, neither really moving except for the heaving of Pete’s chest and the shaking of his limbs. Chasten’s grip doesn’t loosen as the minutes drag on. Pete knows what’s expected of him. He manages to control his breathing again for just long enough to say what he needs to.

“ _Please_.” His shaky voice breaks on the whisper, quiet and strained with desperation.

“Good boy.” The massager clicks off and slowly retreats with an obscene squelch, and Pete is hit with a combination of acute relief and aching want at the loss. Chasten starts rubbing his back, up and down his shuddering spine, murmuring soft and praising comforts that might be riling Pete up more than they’re calming him down. He melts into the tender touch until only trembles run through the course of his body. He can still feel how florid his face must be, how scarlet his cock must be too because he’s leaking all over the careful fingers holding him together. But he refuses to be embarrassed; after five years, the least humiliating thing he could ever do in this bed is show how much he craves his husband in every way.

“If I let go, can you promise me you’ll wait for me to let you come?” Pete hesitates; he wants to behave, he wants to wait for the command, but he’s so worked up and on the edge that he isn’t sure if he can. Especially since he knows Chasten fully intends on coming inside him first. Chasten notices his indecision and leans down, pressing his mouth against the side of Pete’s hip. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t disappoint me.” Pete shivers and nods. Chasten releases his dick and it immediately thuds flat against his stomach again, he’s so hard. “Turn over one more time.”

Gracelessly, Pete collapses sideways onto his hip, then rolls onto his back. He lets Chasten guide him back to where he’d started the evening, the pillow under his head and another one slipped under his waist, making sure the bond is positioned safely. His wrists are a little rough from the rope but he doesn’t mind, not in the slightest. He folds his legs upwards, brings his knees to his chest, and slowly widens the V of his thighs. He wishes he could see the hunger that’s surely on Chasten’s face, see him fully hard again because looking at how ready Pete is for him always turns him all the way on. His breath catches in his throat when he feels Chasten shuffle forward and press their bodies together to lean down over him. “Don’t make a sound.” The growl in his husband’s voice in his ear thrills him and he has to bite his lip to comply.

Chasten presses a palm on Pete’s wrists and a thumb to the base of his throat at the same time he pushes in, only the tip, and Pete almost draws blood with his teeth. He has a moment to adjust before Chasten slowly slides in, sinking further into Pete until he’s as deep as he can get. Pete loves his husband for so, so many reasons, and he’s always grateful that two of those reasons are a thick cock and a generous libido. His asshole stretches to accommodate the size before he clenches, winning a deep groan from Chasten that makes Pete smile even as he struggles to focus. He likes being able to watch Chasten fuck into him, but being blindfolded while on the edge of a painstakingly-denied orgasm is almost just as good.

He feels Chasten pull out until only the head of his dick is still inside, and then his mind blanks out as Chasten thrusts back in, hard and fast and deep, just once. No matter how loose and ready Pete is, it always feels like Chasten fills him completely, tight and hot. Hips flush against each other, Chasten moves his thumb higher and to the side of Pete’s neck, putting the rest of his fingers on the other side and applying just enough pressure to make Pete’s breath stutter, lightheaded. Suddenly bombarded with the image of being dragged along by his tie, Pete crosses his legs to wrap around Chasten’s waist and rocks his hips up, unable to keep still. Mercifully, Chasten takes the hint, picking up speed until his balls are slapping Pete’s ass.

“ _Fuck,_ Peter,” he mutters, spearing Pete open on his cock. Pete’s shaking from the sheer bliss surging through his body as Chasten moves inside him. “You take it so well, such a good boy.” The dirty, kinky kind of sex they’ve been having lately is quickly rising on Pete’s list of favorites. Chasten’s fondness for telling Pete just how filthy he is while Pete has to lay there, quiet and subdued, makes it that much better. “So fucking sexy and you’re all mine.” The weight on his wrists sharpens as Chasten leans down to whisper in his ear, tone rich and husky. “No one will ever get to see you like this, debauched and ruined. Every bit of your body belongs to me.” Chasten’s angle shifts upwards and if Pete could breathe any better he would’ve keened. “And I get to ruin you whenever and wherever I want, don’t I?” Pete’s dick is throbbing against his belly, harder than he thinks he’s ever been before and dribbling precome all over. “I get to watch you writhe under me. I get to see you walking around from side to side and know it’s because I reamed you so hard that you’re sore for days. I get to make you my obedient _slut_.”

Pressure starts building up as Pete feels his orgasm nearing again. He’s torn between disobeying Chasten by coming without permission, or disobeying Chasten by speaking without permission, because if he doesn’t give a warning he’s going to come just like that. About to choose the latter, he realizes there must’ve been a whine already building up in his throat that Chasten could feel under his hand, because the hand on Pete’s wrists disappears to pinch his cock again, pushing release away. It’s just like his husband to make everything a challenge, because Chasten knows he’ll always aim to please. It’s a frustrating game that Pete likes playing anyway. Nothing gets him off like being utterly helpless under Chasten’s control.

Pete sucks in a gulp of air when the hand wrapped around his neck moves to settle at his hip. An open, wet kiss teases at his collarbone as Chasten slows down to a near halt, making Pete thrust upwards to get what he wants. The kiss morphs into sucking so intense that Pete can almost feel the bruise forming under it. His husband, always with an eye for optics, knows just where to leave hickeys — barely covered by a shirt collar so that Pete can see them in the mirror, but hidden if he slips on a tie. Remembering that they have visible public lives even in the heat of the moment has always been something Chasten does much better than Pete.

He whines as the snap of Chasten’s hips on his starts getting erratic, and notices that Chasten must be distractedly close when retribution for being noisy doesn't come. Pete relishes the firm grip on his waist holding him in place as Chasten slams into him, over and over. The delicious coil in his abdomen is curbed by Chasten’s hand, his body screaming for release. Chasten thrusts hard and sloppy, once, twice, a third time, and then buries himself in Pete. The moment Chasten comes, his hold on Pete’s dick tightens, forcing him not to come even as the hot rush inside of him sets his skin on fire. He’s so hard and so close, he just might explode from the tension. After a few minutes, Chasten slowly withdraws from Pete’s quaking body. Pete can feel the come following suit, leaking out of his hole, still warm and sticky. _God,_ he loves being filled up to the brim like that.

“Are you ready to come?” Chasten’s panting, still coming down from his orgasm, still tightly holding the reins on Pete.

“Yes, please, sir,” Pete begs, whimpering. He bucks his hips when wet heat meets his cock, soft lips and tongue dragging through the hair at the base. As if the foreplay hadn’t been tormenting enough. “Jesus _fuck,_ sir, stop teasing me, _please_.” Two short tugs on the shaft, slippery under Chasten’s fingers, wring pained moans from his raw throat. “I need— I-I need to—”

“Come.” The hand squeezing his cock releases as Chasten swallows him down to the root, enveloping him in impossibly luxurious heat. A sharp twist releases in his gut, and Pete cries out in blinding pleasure, shooting his load down Chasten’s throat. His eyes roll back in his skull and he lets himself get lost in the ecstasy.

— x —

A damp towel is rubbing against his abdomen when he comes to, cool against the warmth of his sensitive skin. He grins and sighs contentedly, feels the careful touch wiping the filth off of him. He doesn't open his eyes, choosing instead to let the towel finish its job, revelling in the way its fluffy texture moves across his body. It’s always been the little things like this that mean the most to him, the small gestures of affectionate aftercare where silence and touch say more than words can.

As he rolls to his left side in response to a tap on his hip, the towel swipes lightly over his thighs, his ass cheeks, and slows to pay careful attention around his hole, softly removing the stickiness. He can tell he’ll be sore there for a while. A fresh towel replaces the soiled one, working to clean him off.

“How’re you doing, babe?” Chasten’s voice behind him is gentle and it makes Pete melt a little bit.

His own voice is a little weak. Pete coughs and tries again. “Amazing,” he manages hoarsely, still smiling. 

Chasten hums, happy, and throws the towel somewhere once he’s done. “Shh,” he whispers, and moves to untie the rope. Once they’re freed, Pete rubs his wrists with his hands; they’re tender from how hard he was thrashing, but nothing too bad. He reaches to undo the blindfold but Chasten pushes his hands away, clicking his tongue and removing it himself. The glow of the bedside lamp is much brighter than Pete expects. He blinks rapidly at the sudden change in lighting, rubbing his eyes. When he opens them again, Chasten’s eyes, sparkling with amusement, are right in front of his. “Hi there.” They take a moment, just looking at each other, before Chasten gets off the bed.

Pete rolls onto his back, closing his eyes briefly to focus on how he’s feeling. It’s like floating on clouds. Peaceful, relaxed, a little sleepy. Very, very sated. Chasten returns with a glass of water and helps him sit up to drink it. “Thank you,” he murmurs, stronger than before. As he turns to put the glass down, Chasten’s right hand reaches over to nudge his, and he interlaces their fingers. They’re propped up against the headboard in parallel, leaning towards each other. “How’re you doing, love?” he asks in return.

“Amazing,” Chasten echoes back at him, and Pete chuckles, resting his head on Chasten’s shoulder. He breathes in and all he can smell is his _husband,_ the scent of him so strong and intoxicating in its intimacy that he could lose himself in it. “Was there anything you didn’t like about this time?”

Pete’s quiet for a few beats, and Chasten’s free arm wraps around his side. “Not really. Just ... really pushed to the limit. That was a lot.” Chasten’s thumb rubs in circles on his palm, encouraging him to keep talking. “Maybe only the tying or the blindfolding next time? If I can’t see you, I want to touch you, and if I can’t touch you, I want to see you.” He presses his side closer to Chasten’s. “It wasn’t bad. Really good, actually. I think I just need to work up to pulling out all the stops.”

A kiss lands on his head. “Thank you for telling me. And thank you for letting me explore with you.” Chasten says this almost every time they try new things and it always does something to Pete’s insides. Working through his issues with verbalizing emotion has been a journey all on its own. “Was the way I talked too much?”

Pete goes soft at the lingering note of worry there. “No. It was perfect.” He turns his head, places a gentle kiss on his husband’s jawline, and smiles. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

Chasten lifts their entwined hands to gently tilt Pete’s face up by his chin. He takes the hint and scoots up so that they’re both eye level with each other. Pete leans in to brush their noses together, and Chasten closes the distance between them. It starts chaste, with Chasten’s lips, so soft and familiar, moving sweetly against his. Chasten lets go of Pete’s hand to cradle his face, settling them together. Resting his own palm on Chasten’s cheek, Pete pulls them closer together, opening his mouth in a silent request that Chasten obliges.

Pete loves the way his husband kisses him: fully, thoroughly, carefully, deeply, like they would spend an eternity making out if they could. Chasten’s fingers gently map the lines of Pete’s face, the curves that Pete knows Chasten has memorized. There’s no urgency in this. It’s just them, delighted with the other’s presence. He doesn’t really know how to describe it but Chasten tastes like, _feels_ like comfort. The searching desire from before is faded, replaced with something intangible, an endearment that’s always with him. If “home” described a feeling, a person, rather than a place, this would be it. He kisses Chasten, lets Chasten touch him affectionately, until they’re both satisfied, a little tired, breathing deeply together. Pete’s reluctant to move just yet. He stays still and simply lets his adoring gaze roam over Chasten’s beaming expression.

Eventually, Chasten turns to switch off the lamp and slides down under the covers. Pete follows, nestling close and tucking his head under Chasten’s chin. Chasten radiates warmth. Wrapping his arms around his husband and fitting their legs together, Pete says, on a whim, “Love you, love you, love you.” Chasten laughs, a low rumble in his chest that Pete can feel against his, hugging Pete tightly.

“Love you, love you, love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to Pocket for beta reading, and to waltwhitmans for the inspiration. Happy early Thanksgiving.


End file.
